


Primadonna (Kylo Ren X Reader)

by Sheek Martin (SheekMartin)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU, F/M, Lord, Lord Byron - Freeform, Love, Medieval, Multi, Primadonna, Princess - Freeform, Star Wars - Freeform, antihero, kingdom - Freeform, ladies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheekMartin/pseuds/Sheek%20Martin
Summary: Kylo Ren/Ben Solo X Reader AUSet in a medieval AU, you find yourself trapped and alone in Weston - a miserable, dreary part of what was once your parent's kingdom - Deraan.  After your parents death, the throne passed to their only male heir, your brother - who is too young to rule.  So instead your miserable uncle fills the role of regent.As a plot to to take the throne seems to unveil itself to you, you decide to take matters into your own hands, before either The Regent or King of Ilum have a chance to destroy what your parents built.The only problem is your plans have not taken into account the strange knight that has been forced to protect you, which you slowly begin to realize is more involved than you originally thought.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Reader, Ben Solo/Reader, Kylo Ren/Reader, Leia Organa & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron/Reader, Poe Dameron/Rey
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. In Another Life

"You don't find it odd your brother is to wed before you?"

"Oh, not in the slightest," you sighed, as if it weren’t even a thought on your mind. You reached for another brown square, "oh I simply must know what these are called..." you popped it between your lips. “Besides," you continued, "why should I care? It's not like I'm to inherit. And the longer I go unwed, the longer I'm able to outrageously flirt with Lord Dameron."

You rolled gracefully onto your stomach and toyed with the ring on your right index finger. "Quite possibly even after, too," you concluded in a whisper.

Laughter filled the chamber to the point your ribs began to ache.

"Oh my lady," Sarah said between giggles, "you are so, so bad!"

"Diabolical!" Tess chimed in.

"Here, here," both Mary and Nora said in unison.

They continued to giggle, but steadily the room grew quiet. Your ladies, no doubt, considering the matches they might make. You tried, unsuccessfully, to force the sudden bite of jealously gripping your heart down. Unlike you, they were not bound by some antiquated law, nor were they limited by the function of their sex.

Mary and Nora, both daughters of a wealthy merchant family, were sure to be snatched up rather quickly. Even if they were poor, you found it hard to imagine any man passing them over. They both had long chestnut brown curls that flowed to their small waists. Though petite in stature, both were so elegant and graceful. Their faces reminded you of stories you'd heard from your grandmother about fairies in ancient times.

Sarah also had no shortage of admirers. Despite her modest background, her fiery passion and brilliant beauty overcompensated for her lack of fortune. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders – straight as a board, but vibrant and alive. Her deep green eyes sat on high cheek bones, covered in lovely freckles. Her face was gorgeous because it was so different, but it was her body that was no doubt her crown jewel. With a figure much like an hourglass, and legs that made her just slightly shorter than some knights, it was impossible to not envy her. Add all that in with her outgoing confidence, and there wasn't anything she couldn't do.

You looked to Tess who was quietly smiling, toying with the edges of a beaded pillow. You felt a small wave of pity as you regarded her. Tess was beautiful in so many ways; it was unforgivable that the ignorant men of the court failed to see it. Tess's parents were royal ambassadors from the Imperial Regions - her dark eyes were quiet, and her face was precious. She reminded you of a teacup sometimes. Overshadowed by the tea set, but just as beautiful and breath taking if one took the time to admire it.

Your mood shifted drastically as you considered how simple it would be for them. While they would try to marry into rich families, to secure their own well-being; you would be sold like a broodmare to the highest bidder; not for love, or desire, or even for your beauty... And even worse, neither your father nor your mother were alive to consider your desires. No, all the power was left with the Regent until John became of age.

So, until a suitable option presented itself, you continued to wait. Surrounded by mindless chatter, solitude and of course your _distractions_.

What good was all this wealth and theoretical power when you were a woman?

"I wish to retire," you said loud enough for your ladies to understand that the time for giggles was now over.

Tess and Nora pulled on your arms to help you stand while Mary and Sarah moved through to your bedchamber. As much as you hated being stuck here, at least you were in control of your own time in this desolate place. The Regent (Collin - your mother's half-brother) had seen fit to exile you to the remote region of Weston, until an appropriate situation could be determined. (“Appropriate” by his definition – not yours.)

While Weston was famous for its dreary weather and long, arduous nights, it did have one thing Collin had not anticipated; Poe Dameron.

As your ladies undressed you, carefully pulling each layer of the rather boring gown from your body, you shivered.

"Is it too cold, my lady?" Tess asked politely.

"No, no," you smiled to yourself – thinking about Poe. "No, I'm perfectly alright, Tess. Thank-you."

Soon the last layer had been pulled away. The chill in the northern tower was the most vicious, but you wouldn't trade anything for the view.

Finally able to breathe and move without the restrictions of the lace and corsets, you took a deep breath and stepped down from the dressing stage.

Rain was already beginning to fall and far in the distance you saw lighting split the night sky.

Nora pulled a pin from your hair, but you stopped her. "It's alright Nora, I can handle those. Thank you, girls. Sleep well,” you said – effectively dismissing them.

"Of course, my lady," Nora curtsied – followed by the rest of them, "good night."

Finally left alone, you sat at the vanity nearest the fire and began pulling the pins from your hair.

You watched in the mirror how the flames danced over the lines of your face and wondered how you compared to Lady Dameron. You'd never seen her at court, yet since Poe's marriage – he'd come to you less and less. You glanced to the tapestry covering the south wall; behind it was the secret passage from your room. You closed your eyes thinking over the many different paths that single exit led to.

You hadn't heard from him in over a month now. It was unlike him to go so long with no word. Surely, he wouldn't have given you this ring, had he any intention of forgetting his love for you...

Your hair was free from the pins and you ran your fingers over your scalp, fighting back a wave of dejection. Poe loved your hair. He would often pull you to his chest just to stroke your hair after he’d finished ravishing you. The persistent ache between your thighs beckoned in your body. Your fists clenched and you screwed your eyes shut – willing Poe to come back to you. You needed him, to feel him, to taste him. 

A soft thud sounded in the drawing room, and as if you had conjured him, Poe stood in his regalia, his hand clutching his chest – as if the sight of you had stopped his heart. The smile that filled your face was surely too much, but you didn't care.

His dark curly locks were still coated with droplets of rain, glistening in the firelight. He was still in his murky silver armor, covered in debris. His face was shadowed in the night, with the dark tint of a beard growing.

You felt a glacial shift in the room and before you could think, you were hurling yourself into his open arms. (Had your childhood governess seen this reaction to a man, you'd have been scolded and forced to atone for the breach in proper behavior – yet you had no care at all - with him.)

His armor was cold against your thread bare night dress. Your nipples hardened instantly as you made contact with your road-weary knight.

His hands were still gloved, but they moved easily across your shoulder blades, down over the planes of your back and came to rest beneath the slight curve of your bottom. He squeezed your hips against his and the ache in your core intensified. 

Poe's lips were cold but consuming. He devoured you as you used all your strength to hold onto him. The scruff of his beard was rubbing your delicate skin raw; you didn't stop. You only wanted him closer.

After several moments, you felt the urgency in his kiss slowly soften and the hunger was replaced with pure love.

He lifted his hands to cup your cheeks while his lips rained sweet kisses across yours. Poe was only slightly taller than you (much shorter than Sarah), but his height didn’t matter really. Everything about him was delicious.

"My sweet poppet," his breath fell over your face, as you tilted your head to kiss his still gloved palm.

"Poe, oh Poe, how I've missed you..."

You looked up to his face and saw clearly what you'd not been able to see before. An eye patch covered the left corner of his face.

"What's happened?!" Unable to control your voice, he immediately looked up to the open door and pulled you further into your room.

He was facing the fire now and you saw more clearly. Not only was his left eye hidden beneath the black cloth, but his face was covered in scars. You pulled his face closer to yours, running your fingers over his cheeks.

"Poe, what happened?" Fear and love dripping from you voice.

"Your uncle has waged an assault against the southern border, in an attempt to consolidate power. He's mad…"

You considered his words, angry that the peace your parents had worked so hard to build with Ilum was crumbling because of Collin's greed. You looked back to Poe's single eye now – still glad to see the deep brown in it.

The glad feeling was replaced though as you began to inspect the scars. They were older, well healed... And his eye. How was he here, standing, with such a wound. You ran your fingers over his cheeks, tracing the dark scars.

"You didn't just arrive here tonight, did you?" Poe let out a deep breath and shook his head as he lowered his gaze.

"I was sent home almost a month ago," he said quietly, as if he was ashamed.

"Poe, why did you not send for me? I could have come tend to you," you felt heartbroken considering how alone he must have felt, how frightened. But his gaze remained cast down and a sick feeling began to settle in your stomach.

"Upon my injuries, I was released from my position – to allow time to heal. My men took me-" his voice trailed off, and you felt the meaning behind his trepidation.

"They took you home,” you swallowed, “to Lady Dameron," you finished, voice full of conviction. Your hand fell from his grasp and you took a small step back. The longing in your stomach slowly churning into nausea.

"Why did you not write to me, Poe?" You asked, stupidly; you already knew the answer. Something had been creeping within you for a while now, but you'd ignored it – stupid little fool.

"You must understand, poppet, she is my wife and she is a good, good woman." His voice was still low, but desperate.

What is he desperate about? For you to understand what? That he fell in love with his wife? That he finally saw what you'd seen coming for months now?

"I do love you, poppet. My heart has always been yours, but..." his voice trailed off as you turned away from him.

"But it's different now," you finished for him. "And it's 'my lady'."

The only sounds that continued to fill the space was the soft pattering of rain against the windows combined with the crackling of the fire. Despite your proximity to it, however, the cold continued to seep into your bones.

"Might as well get used to calling me that now, Lord Dameron." Through the tears falling from your eyes, you reached for the robe draped over your dressing chair and pulled it over your shoulders.

"Pop- My lady, please..." his voice was sad but what did he expect from you, honestly?

"My Lord, I can't be run away with my feelings. I will not be overwhelmed with emotion," you said firmly. You gingerly wiped the tears from your face and turned back to face him. Even with his hair grown out, the thick wild beard and his missing eye – he'd never looked more handsome to you. Your heart ached.

"... please," he called you by your given name. And your heart burned within your chest.

"You may go, My Lord." You said softly, but still firm.

Poe closed his eye and bowed his head. Before he could step away, you moved closer and reached for his hand.

"In another life, my lord," you said softly, and pulled the ring from your index finger then placed it in his palm. He looked back up to you so quickly. His face full of anguish slowly faded to acceptance. He closed his fist but held onto your fingers and pulled them to his lips.

"In another life, my lady," he said – his voice breaking.

You watched him disappear behind the tapestry before you collapsed to the floor. As you waited for the tears to come, you ran through the facts in your mind.

One, your parents are dead. Two, your little brother - whom you'd adored since the moment of his birth was the only one who could help you, but three, your Uncle would use you to his advantage instead. Four, the only man you'd ever loved had decided to do right by his wife which left you five, all alone - abandoned in The Great Hall of Weston.

Weston, where the sun would shine maybe a fourth of the year.

Weston, hundreds of miles from the only family you had left.

Weston, full of spies for either Uncle Collin or his many enemies - spies that either way, both benefited from your demise.

Weston, what felt like the end of it all.

You laughed darkly to yourself, how very dramatic of me, you realized. Barley 20 and already aligning yourself with an empty, hollow existence. The problem was, however, that life past this age grew increasingly more difficult for an unmarried princess.

You remained lying on the floor, listening to the rain and fire - still waiting for tears that you gradually began to realize might never come.


	2. Solo

The weeks that followed were monotonous, to say the least. You'd spent your days dawdling about the castle. After selecting the menus for the smattering of unimportant engagements over the next three weeks, unnecessarily reorganizing several rooms that had been undisturbed for years and finally mending your own gowns and dresses (just for something to occupy your time), you'd run out of things to do.

You remained seated in the grand dining room, where you'd been taking your meals lately. A maid began clearing away the remains of your barely touched poached salmon. It had seemed somewhat extravagant in the beginning but remaining in the same room to eat, that you also slept in seemed desperately depressing. At least this way you had some semblance of company. You regarded the soldier standing at attention in the archway.

There weren't many soldiers on guard here as there would have been at home. Donia would've been full of armed knights, ready in a moment's notice to protect with their lives. Here, however, you realized you had the same six to seven men on rotation throughout the whole castle.

The one standing here now was quite tall, as you compared his height and size to the maid walking back and forth to clean away dishes. She was about your height, and she only came up to the middle of his broad chest.

The gnawing ache between your legs grew.

Poe would've been a foot shorter than this soldier. You leaned back in your chair and let out a long exhale. How frustrating it was to miss him.

Don't misunderstand – you did love him, more than you'd care to admit, but if you were being honest, you'd known it wouldn't have lasted anyways. Even if he had been unmarried, he was still only a knight. And while his rank was impressive – it would have never really been a suitable match, or at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself of.

Would I have had the backbone to claim him for myself if I'd really wanted to? You considered...

You remembered the first time you'd seen him at court.

A grand feast had been held in honor of a select few knights who'd shown intense valor during some random incursion by Ilum – before an alliance had been formed. Poe was one of the soldiers who'd risen above the call of duty and led a group of men beyond the enemies' defenses to garner a greater victory.

You'd witnessed that evening how the women of the court flirted and quietly fought each other like fools for his attention. He had been new to the king's guard and was not quite as hardened by war as his elder counterparts. His shoulder length curls fell to his intense jawline that was slightly darkened with fresh stubble. His dark eyes were slightly downturned which made him appear sad and serious. His perfectly angled nose separated the smooth curves of his cheeks, which accentuated the contours of his lips. He was quite handsome, in a clean/schoolboy type of way and the fact he appeared tortured and dutiful made him fresh meat to the ladies at court.

You smirked as you recalled your plot to get his attention. He'd been brought before your father, the king, and since you were seated at his right, you knew you'd have one chance to catch his eyes. You'd always known how to work your looks to your advantage, and this would be no different.

He bowed before your father then rose; you tilted your head slightly to pull his focus to you. As soon as his eyes met yours, you parted your lips slightly and ran your fingers gently over your mouth to pull him under your spell.

Through the remainder of the evening, you'd made sure to be in his line of sight. You danced with other men, who'd been significantly older and less attractive, to help bolster his confidence in approaching you at some point.

And, it had worked. As the night went on, you stepped out into the gardens for a moment alone, very aware that he was watching you still.

The gardens held a few couples already trying to steal moments away with each other, but you knew you couldn't be seen with anyone. You’d hidden in a little alcove, nearest the fountains. The hedges were overgrown there, but that also meant there was a bench like overgrowth hidden beneath the brambles and leaves.

You adjusted your gown and waited, and he did not disappoint. Only a short moment had passed, and you saw him walking slowly around, looking for where you'd disappeared to. Your heart skipped a beat as you knew he was looking for you.

"My lord," you called, quietly from your hidden spot. The night was dark and overcast, which was normal this time of year. The chill in the air was slightly ever present, but the blood running through your veins was warm with excitement.

He turned to your voice and waited a moment longer until he was sure he saw you behind the hedges. He glanced around once more, satisfied that there was no one close enough to care and hurried around and through the disguised entrance.

Once he was through the vines, Poe dropped to a knee, bowed his head then looked back up to you. You couldn't see his eyes very well, but they were large and suited the planes of his face so well; your mouth watered.

"Your highness," he whispered as you lifted your hand for him to grasp. He took your fingers in his and raised them to his lips, keeping his eyes on you as he did. The mixture of his rough hands and smooth lips made your lips curve and your heart melt..

"My lord, you are quite popular this evening," you said softly, as he continued to hold your hand in his.

"If I am, my lady, I have not been able to notice, as I've been thoroughly consumed by your highness's beauty." Your cheeks reddened, as his lips curved in a smile – he was charming for sure. "And I am no 'Lord,' highness, simply a soldier."

His attention to title was quite sweet, but you were wanting him to understand clearly what you wanted from him.

"But you see, I wish you to be my lord..." You leaned towards him, allowing him a better view of the exposed skin of your chest, and the swell of your breasts, pushing against your corset.

His hungry gaze went from your chest back up to your eyes and not a moment had passed before he was towering over your seated figure, with his mouth devouring you. One of his rough hands was cupping your cheek while the other was digging into the nape of your neck, pulling on your hair. His lips were consuming and hungry. It had been easy falling for him.

As the grand dining hall grew quieter, with only the sound of the fire continuing to crack, you realized it wasn't Poe that you had been entirely in love with... It was everything he represented.

Freedom.

Freedom to love who he wanted and chose who he wanted. Freedom to decide where to go – to an extent and chose his own path.

Yes, he was duty bound to first your father, then now your brother, but before all of that, he'd been free and still in many ways was free. No lineage or legacy to uphold or to remain duty bound to.

And it wasn't until he married his wife that your feelings changed. Not because he had married someone else, but because he had given away some of his freedom.

_How long must I continue to exist, solely in the hands of everyone else? How long must my life remain not my own? Am to always be exiled in this state of obedience and helplessness? Unable to decide for myself what my life is to become?_

Poe was gone and you decided you must move on with your _distractions_ – since repurposing your own life seemed an impossible goal at the present moment.

You slid your eyes over to the massive soldier still standing at attention and licked your lips.

"My Lord," you called coyly over to him, "I wonder what I should call you, since we seem to be in such close proximity to one another, so often." You turned your lips into a lazy smile, and draped yourself in the chair casually, allowing the curves of your body to appear most alluring.

Your tricks, however, were unnecessary, as the soldier didn't turn even slightly to acknowledge you'd spoken to him, let alone admire your figure. At first you thought maybe he hadn't heard you, so you spoke again.

"Sir, I pray, tell me your name..." you called a little louder, but kept your voice sweet and lazy. He remained indifferent; is he ignoring me?

"Soldier!" Your voice was commanding now, and your temper was quietly simmering beneath the surface. Weeks of the hollow ache deep within your body was chewing through what little patience you'd stored away.

You temper seemed to work, for the soldier turned only his head toward you, in response to your command. A second of relief coursed through you. "Will you not tell me your name?" You asked sweetly, a complete opposite tone than the one you'd used before, to gain his attention.

You were slightly excited to hear his voice. Was it deep and soulful or quiet and contemplative? Was he a brute with a small vocabulary or a secret academic, like Poe, who would rain upon you sonnets of adoration? Either way, you felt your heart race in anticipation.

But instead of any of those possibilities, the man simply turned his head back to attention, completely ignoring that you'd spoken to him at all.

The smile fell away from your lips and you were moments away from releasing your full temper on him. His complete lack of respect for you was infuriating, especially from someone as lowly as a soldier - guarding against the completely absent threats of your exiled existence. Oh, who he must have angered to achieve this position, was going to be the first arrow you shot at him.

You stood, about to address his obvious lack of reverence when Sarah and Tess rushed in, faces puffy, eyes swollen and red with tears.

"My lady! My Lady, there's-" Tess choked out in her soft voice, then broke off as she stifled a sob.

"What, what is it?" Dread filled your heart.

"My lady, it seems there's been a-" Sarah said in a level voice but was also unable to finish the thought.

"There's been an attack on your brother, the King," called a strong voice from behind them. Tess and Sarah quickly made their way around the table to your side as Poe walked into the room, flanked by a slender woman and a handsome, dark-skinned man. All three wore full suits of armor but were holding their helmets in the crooks of their arms.

His voice sent chills up your spine, but only because you'd just been reminiscing on your first encounter with him. No longer was he the free young soldier – now he was the general of your brother's army.

You could not be run away with emotions now, you needed to focus on what was at hand.

"Someone has attacked John? But how?" You heard the fear lace your voice as you asked the questions aloud to no one in particular.

"It appears to have been an ambush during a military inspection," he responded.

"An inspection? But what was he even doing there? Surely that isn't a place for a 9-year-old to be. Where was Collin?" Your voice was growing louder, but you could not help it. The woman on Poe's right spoke up.

"Highness, it appears The Regent has been trying to educate the King on his future duties," she bowed her head when she'd finished speaking. You were intrigued by her presence and wanted to find out how she came to be at Poe's right hand.

"But how was this possible? Do we know who was behind the attack?" You looked back to Poe, "Lord Dameron?"

"The king sustained minor injuries and is ok. My men have already begun transporting him to D'Qar and will remain in the care of Lady Organa until we are able to ascertain where the threat has come from."

Poe was continuing to tell you about his plans and his course of action, but you had become distracted by the silent soldier who had angered you just moments before. He remained a statue until Poe had mentioned Lady Organa, and you caught the slightest tilt of his helmet towards your direction.

 _Interesting_.

You refocused to what Poe was saying. “…a few men were caught, but unfortunately were killed in the scrimmage that ensued following the attack.” 

"I see, I see.” You were considering his words, then an idea struck you. “I am wondering, however, if Collin is going to claim this is Armitage's doing," you whispered.

The woman standing next to Poe squared her shoulders, smirked then looked to the handsome man on the other side of Poe.

"Yes...?" You searched for the proper way to address her.

"Captain," she responded, "Captain Reya Walkins. And I have the same theory."

"Captain, I do not think," Poe began to address her, but you stopped him.

"I would actually like to hear what she has to say, sir. Please..." Poe's face turned slightly red, but he bowed his head.

"Highness, I along with Captain Perio have reason to believe that your uncle is not as loyal to the crown as he would have us believe.” 

The man behind Poe begins nodding his head and continues “The circumstances surrounding this ambush are quite similar to what happened to your parents. I think it may be possible that the regent is using King Armitage as a scapegoat for his own nefarious plans."

Walkins spoke again, “I along with several other of my men believe there may be a plot to possibly overthrow the King.”

“Captain!” Poe’s voice caused you to jump slightly, “We should not be alarming her highness with theories and speculation.” His voice was forceful, but Reya did not disappoint.

“With all due respect sir, if these theories are proven to be true, she will be next in line for the throne, should anything happen to our King, Gods forbid.”

You admired her confident ability to voice her opinion and instantly felt a kinship with her. Was this what you'd been lacking? Confidence? Surely not, you were confident in your duties, but in yourself?

"General, I need to get to Bespin as soon as possible." You turned to Tess and Sarah, "we will need to leave within the next few hours – please make the preparations. We will travel as lite as possible."

"Highness, I've come to take you to D'Qar, your brother..." Poe began but you stopped him.

"The king is in perfectly good hands with Lady Organa." You felt your heart break a bit. You did want to go to him yourself, to make sure the only family you had left was ok, but you knew you had a greater duty to the kingdom; John's kingdom... and your kingdom. "If Collin is going to try to destroy the peace that my parents and so many others have fought and died to achieve, I must go to make sure it remains intact. Not just for me, Lord Dameron, but for John. This will be his kingdom one day, and I'll not allow it to fall apart before he's able to take the throne.

Poe tilted his head up as if he was about to speak, but you pressed on. “And if Collin is _not_ the one behind this, then the best person to discuss the issue with _is_ King Armitage.”

Reya smiled in pride while Poe remained silent. But it wasn't their reactions that affected you. It was the silent soldier, again. Looking over Poe's shoulder you saw his helmet was in your direction again and for some reason your cheeks reddened.

"Of course, my lady," Poe responded, "I will ready my..."

"NO," you spat out, but drew your voice back in, "sir... I think the General of Deraan should be with his King."

"Pop-" he said, your eyes widening, and he immediately cleared his throat, "Princess, are you certain?" His slip had been heard by everyone in the room, but you quickly spoke to dismiss it.

"Yes, Captain Reya can accompany me."

"My Lady," she responded quickly, bowing her head to accept your directions. "General we should take the house knights, as they are already here and would be ready," she spoke softly to Poe.

Knights? The guards here were knights?

"Of course," Poe answered, then turned further to find the silent soldier still standing at attention. "Solo, make ready your men."

The rude creature responded with a deep resounding, "yes, sir," bowed his head, then left. You felt sick to your stomach, wanting to take back the moments leading up to Poe's arrival. Reya and Perio turned to leave as well.

"The house guard are all knights?" Your voice was befuddled with confusion.

"But of course, My Lady," Poe spoke as if you should have already known this. "Did you think I would have allowed you to remain here in Weston, with anything less? He finished with a smile and turned to leave. Your heart ached for the man that _did_ love you but couldn’t anymore.

As the castle came to life, you sat back down in the chair, considering what would have to happen now.

One, your little brother was alone and scared, while you were about to leave him even more alone in a land no longer safe. All to go and two, finally meet the dreaded Armitage Hux. Three, you were going to have to do it without the approval of the throne. Which was not going to be a surprise to the King of Ilum; it was still going to be tense, nonetheless. Four, apparently the leader of your security was already despondent towards you and five, there was no precedent of this being done.

No heir, second in line for the throne, and a woman at that, had ever attempted to negotiate continued peace without the support of the throne. But you considered what you'd said before, and it was true – this was your kingdom too, and you had to do what you could to protect it, despite how ill-equipped you were to handle it.

It was yours, too.


	3. True Power

There was nothing that would have prepared you for the long arduous journey getting to Bespin had become. Weston was situated at the base of a mountain range that bordered Deraan and Corellia, but at the end of that range was a wide river that separated Deraan from Ilum.

A small fishing village sat at the edge of the border and seemed a good a place to stop and take a brief respite before pressing on. Your nose crinkled involuntarily to the smell of slaughtered fish and a moldy odor that seemed to be all around.

Travelling as quickly and as lite as possible meant no carriages, which in most ways made it convenient to move, but inconvenient with the miserable weather. You sat astride your horse, along with Sarah, Solo and five of his men, waiting for Reya and another knight name Vicrul to return.

Looking around, you felt a wave of both pity and admiration for the tiny village. While they were humble and poor – many covered in the dirt and grime of their daily lives, they appeared pleased, almost happy with their lot. For reasons you couldn't understand, you envied some of them.

"Princess," Reya spoke softly as she rode towards you. She pulled up the guard covering her face and you were in awe of how beautiful, even now, she looked. You hadn't noticed before, but her features were so delicate and feminine – it truly was surprising that she was a knight - Captain of the Royal Guard.

"The only lodging is an inn near a public stable, however there's only 2 rooms available. It's possible the village may not be loyal to Deraan, so I think it would be best for you and your lady to take the room while the rest of us remain here until dawn."

"Captain, surely..." you began to argue, but Reya moved closer, her voice low and serious.

"Highness, we must exercise caution until we reach Bespin. You are extremely valuable and while our home is vulnerable..." She didn't finish her thought, but you were already aware.

"I understand, Captain," you whispered, "I will endeavor to remain anonymous." She smiled then turned toward the men.

"Solo, take point please," she spoke loud enough for them to hear as she moved further away to instruct the rest. The saliva filling your mouth dried instantly. Anyone but him, you thought. You groaned internally and rolled your eyes.

Unfortunately, as you turned your face you realized he was there – right next to you, watching your obvious display of annoyance. While keeping his gaze (or what you thought was his gaze – since the guard over his face was absolute) he called to the knight behind you.

"Vicrul," he said calmly in the deep baritone you'd only heard once before, "take her majesty's lady with you to find the amenities necessary for her _highness_. I will take the _princess_ and secure the lodge." He didn't wait for a response, just began riding toward the inn.

You looked to Sarah – the only one selected to come with you and felt your heart sink a bit. You'd be left alone with this creature who clearly had nothing but contempt for you. As you urged your horse to follow him, you were replaying his words in your mind. The emphasis he'd put on your title made you feel as if he were mocking rather than respecting you.

 _Why do I care?_ You suddenly thought. He was very much beneath you and his only job was to protect you – nothing else. He didn't need to like you to do his job.

Squaring your shoulders and lifting your chin, you rode past him to the inn Reya had pointed out. Once you arrived, you looked around for an unmuddied spot to dismount. You'd worn your riding clothes, but still you didn't want to dirty them beyond repair. The small wardrobe you'd brought had to last the 3-day ride to Bespin, and hopefully the nicer gowns you had would suffice for an audience with Armitage.

Solo turned to face you, then swung his long leg around and dismounted his horse with a forceful grace. The dark grey of his metal armor clanked loudly as he walked toward you. Without asking your permission or acknowledging you in the slightest, he reached his hands up, placed them on your waist and pulled you down from your saddle.

"Sir!" You gasped in protest as his large hands covered a vast majority of your waist. Your cheeks reddened as you felt his fingers dig into the soft flesh. He sat you down gently, as if it had been no effort at all, taking care not to plant you deep in the mud.

You glared up at him, while he remained hovering over you with his hands still encircling your waist. "You do not just put your hands on me, _creature_ ," you said between gritted teeth. His lack of respect towards you was really annoying. Now wasn't the time to deal with his insubordination – there were more important issues at hand and too many eyes already on you, but he needed to learn his place. "Do you understand me?"

His large hands lingered a moment longer, then released you. Again, without a response he turned and strode inside. You glanced around to see if anyone had paid attention to the interchange. Everyone milled about as nothing was happening, except for a few girls, who looked slightly younger than you. They were huddled near a clothesline, removing dirty linens and whispering to each other. Your cheeks reddened and you moved to follow Solo.

The tavern was small and murky. The floor, ceiling and walls were all the same dark wood, and bare, except for candles with wax melted down and hanging off the pedestals, protruding from their perches. A powerful fire dominated the left of the room that warmed you to the core, but on the opposite wall hung the royal insignia for Ilum.

You pulled the black cloak tighter against your chest, doing your best to conceal your dress. Although you were dressed in travel garments and your hair was wrapped in a bun on top of your head, it wouldn't be too difficult for people to ascertain who you were. And if the village was loyal to the Ilum crown, this was not the place to push your luck.

Solo stood at the counter, ignoring your presence entirely and pulled his helmet off. You were standing behind him, so were not afforded the ability to see his face. All you were able to see was a mess of jet-black waves tumble to his wide shoulders.

"I need a room, that can hold a fire." His voice was powerful under the helmet, but you realized beyond the confines of it, his voice was so much more. It reminded you of the feeling of warm honey coating your tongue and sending a slow warmth through your cold limbs.

The ache between your legs intensified and you shivered.

The inn keeper peered around his large frame to eye you, cocked an eyebrow then looked back to Solo.

"I reckon you may kill'er, my lord. I've got some sturdier ones upstairs who may be able to take it a bit better than that one there..." his old voice trailed off in a sick cackle as he pulled a key from under the counter when Solo only shook his head. "Alright then, ave'it your way. It's 3 sheks a night, no funny business, ey." Your cheeks reddened in rage at the mere thought of someone comparing you to a whore – then you recalled where you were and forced the anger down.

Solo dropped a few coins on the bar, swiped the key silently, then pulled the helmet back on before you could catch a glimpse of his face. You felt annoyed with yourself for being more preoccupied seeing his face than the innkeeper’s comment.

Before you could speak to him, his grip circled around your upper arm completely and he pulled you after him in a hurry.

"Sir," you whispered as he continued to yank you outside and around the tavern. You were struggling to keep up and his grip was tightening. "Solo…" you called slightly louder, but still he ignored you, pulling you now up a set of stairs and down an empty wooden porch.

" _Creature_ , I say," you hissed, yanking your arm from his grasp, finally able to disrupt his focus. You turned slowly around to see if anyone was watching. Thankfully no one seemed to pay the two of you any mind.

"Give the key to me, now." You held out your hand as you glared up into the grimy helmet. He remained still for a moment as you continued to stare into the slits at his eyes. In the overcast light of day, you were able to make out a pair of deep, round brown eyes staring back at you.

He lifted the key and dropped it in your palm, for _once_ obeying you. You did not respond, you only stepped around him and continued down the exposed corridor to the designated room. As you stepped inside, you turned to instruct him to bring Sarah here with just warm water. Before you could get a word in, however, he was pushing you aside and stepping into the room.

"This is highly inappropriate, _creature_ ," you yelled in a whispered tone, shutting the door. Damn the possible dangers that surrounded you, you would not allow him to treat you like a some inferior servant. "I am not some maiden to be trifled with, do you hear me?" You spoke forcefully to him as he busied his self around the room, building a fire and rearranging furniture.

"Stop," you called after him, and he continued working. Your anger was at a breaking point, with this headstrong buffoon. "I ORDER YOU TO STOP, GODS BE DAMNED!"

The room fell silent as the reverberation of your shriek settled between the worn wood and threadbare linens. He turned slowly around to you again and waited.

"Now, _creature_ , I don't know who you think you are, but you are not,"

"Your majesty," his gruff voice cut you off, which shocked you into silence. He stepped toward you and reached up to remove his helmet. Whatever you'd been prepared for, this wasn't it.

Solo’s hair fell again to his shoulders in disheveled waves. His face was long and angular and dotted in odd places with freckles and a mole or two. His lips were a striking red and luscious for a man – the bottom slightly fuller than the top. And you'd been wrong about his eyes, they weren't deep and round, but deep and _dark_. His eyelids were slightly heavy which made him appear stoic and unkind. His eyebrows were thick and long, perfectly accentuating the exaggerated quality of his face. His nose was slightly crooked, but it worked in the same odd way the uneven turn of his lips took.

Your head jerked back in response and anything you'd been thinking fell out of your mind.

"Do not - call me - _creature_ , again," his voice was menacing – almost like he was sweetly threatening you.

Truth be told, you hadn't meant to continue calling him that, but it was the only thing he'd responded to. As you considered his tone however, it occurred to you that he was not the one with the _power_ in this situation, _you were_.

"How dare you speak to me, thus," you whipped against him. "I am the Princess Royal to the House of Deraan, who are you to order me to do anything?" You wanted to slap his face.

"You, princess, are a spoiled primadonna," he took a step toward you – completely unphased by your effort to assert your authority. You felt your jaw drop in response and took a step back as he took another. "An entitled, royal, naïve little girl who has no understanding of the world; of true power." The flavor of his voice both excited and frightened you.

The fact that you felt both aroused and afraid was beyond confusing.

"Sir, I..." your voice was timid as you tried to get out of the trap, you'd unintentionally set for yourself.

" _Shh_ ," he whispered as you took another step away but was stopped by the closed door behind you. He was so tall, and your breathing was horribly erratic. His gaze fell on your exposed chest then back up to your eyes, and he knowingly pursed his lips, considering your silence. 

He pulled his helmet back on but slide the visor up to allow you the chance to hear him clearly.

"No understanding at all," he bent towards you and you felt his warm breath fall over your cheeks and neck. "But don't worry, little primadonna," he closed the visor of his helmet and finished in a muffled, deeper tone – almost mechanical, "I will show you true power."


	4. Options

The night was spent in a perpetual state of agitation. Every second you felt your body about to drift to sleep, some drunken fool howled with laughter or baby screeched for its mother to feed it. 

You refused to acknowledge the real reason you’d been unable to sleep. It was only because of the hard mattress and noise and not at all because of the complicated creature pacing through the night. 

Sarah was finishing the last loops in the simple brown dress as you regarded your reflection. The dress was a bit long for you. After Reya's warnings yesterday, you'd felt your riding garments were still too ostentatious, so Sarah pulled one of her own traveling dresses for you.

Your skin looked significantly dull. Weston had already stripped away the color from your skin, but it was worse now. In this drab dress, in the damp room, with only the harsh overcast light spilling through the window...

"All finished, my lady. How would you like your hair today?" Her long, soft fingers began pulling your hair from the braid it had been in during the night.

"Honestly, Sarah, my head is hurting so badly, just leave it free today. I can't do another day of riding, with it pinned atop my head." You rolled your eyes as she fluffed it out.

There is no call to ceremony, nor need to impress anyone – so what was the harm.

Instantly, the agitating ache pulsed deep within your core.

 _He might be watching you,_ though... The thought filled you with dread. You were both repulsed and drawn to the beautifully arrogant creature that _DID NOT_ plague your mind throughout the night.

The dark, gruff quality his voice had taken, the intense fierce expression in his eyes... _"I will show you true power..."_ His words _didn’t_ hang on the edge of your mind the entire night, like a drop of cream, clinging to the spoon – as you impatiently waited for it to drip to your tongue on a warm summer night. 

Sarah had finished with your hair and was buttoning your cloak in place when you noticed a bright red mark on her smooth alabaster skin, between her neck and shoulder – easily concealed by a scarf she'd yet to put on.

You looked back to her face and noticed her lips were slightly turned up on the corners.

"These knights are quite intense," you said nonchalantly. She paused for the briefest of moments, then clicked the last buckle into place. "Forces me to reconsider Lord Dameron's initial response to escorting us his self."

"Oh, I don't know, my lady," Sarah turned to finish packing away your nightclothes, "they aren't so bad." You hear the smile in her voice which in turn made you smile. One of them had smitten her, which you knew was not an easy thing to do.

Right as you were about to test the subject further – to discover which one, a harsh knock sounded at the door.

Sarah immediately threw a blanket over the bags showing your house sigil and turned to answer the door. You stepped behind the door to remain out of sight, but you realized it was unnecessary as Solo stepped through the threshold.

"Commander," Sarah said and stepped aside. You rolled your eyes at the use of his title. Of course, he's a commander, of course, he would be directly under Reya – in charge of your specific security while she remained in charge of the group.

Eyes clearly amused (as he had seen you rolling yours) he turned to face you, placing his hands behind his back. His presence filled the room to the point you found it hard to breathe. Instead of his normal armor, he was head to toe in black. His shirt was thick, black wool, layered under a vest of worn midnight leather and a dark, heavy cloak. His pants came up to the mid of his waist and were tucked slimly into his leather boots. He had no helmet, but the sleek, shiny lines of his chest and arms indicated that he was probably wearing black armor beneath the top layers of his clothes.

"Highness, we're ready to depart." His voice was just as strong and warm as it had been the day before, only now you were able to watch his mouth move clearly and read his expressions. You moved toward him to walk out of the room but were stopped when his massive arm blocked your path.

You stood there, with the edge of his arm pressing ever so slightly against your chest. You refused to move, as he was the one who pushed into _your_ way. Your eyes darted from him to his arm and a slight tremor played over his lips, almost as if he was suppressing his amusement.

"Unfortunately," he said in a quieter voice that melted down your skin, "Captain Walkins experienced an incursion through the night. I think she may have been recognized.” The air left your lungs and you closed your eyes against the fear lacing your heart. Sarah rushed to your side and lifted your hand to help support you if you fainted.

"My lady," she whispered, and you gently dismissed her – slightly annoyed that she would think you so weak to faint at bad news.

"No, I'm alright, Sarah. Sir," you looked up to Solo who still remained planted in your space, "go on, please."

The same dreary light was flooding the room, and you noticed the mixtures of green and brown in his eyes, along with the rich smooth waves in his jet-black hair. Bloody hell was he handsome.

"She, along with four of my men, returned back towards Weston, and has urged us to turn back as well." You felt a jolt of relief at learning she was alive and ok, but irritation at the thought of turning back. The threats to your home were just as real today, as they were the day before. You could not stop now.

"My Lord, do we have enough supplies to reach Bespin?" His left eye twitched and his head tilted slightly as he considered your question.

"We do not," he said firmly. You let out a deep sigh and hung your head in frustration. "However," he continued, "what we lack, we could acquire within the village just a few miles across the river."

You smiled. "Well, Commander," you looked up through your lashes at him, hoping he'd see beyond his _apparent_ disdain for you, "can it be done?"

Solo lowered his arm and turned to face you fully. You swallowed the rush of saliva that filled your mouth upon standing face to face with him, craning your head up to his domineering face.

His eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips then stepped through the door without another word. You looked at his retreating figure, his cloak billowing behind, and noticed his nod to the man waiting for him a few feet ahead. He was dressed identical to Solo and nodded his head in response.

He turned toward you, hood pulled over his head and a black covering over his mouth. All you could see were his brilliant blue eyes.

"Highness," his eyes fell on you, "my lady," he spoke towards Sarah. "We have much ground to cover if we are to reach Bespin by nightfall." He lifted his hand toward Sarah and began helping her gather your things.

You grabbed a bag and ignored Sarah's protest at carrying it then stepped onto the porch. Solo was still walking towards the stables, cloak whipping behind him the whole way and you wondered how complicated the remainder of this journey would be, with this complicated man.

***

"Make sure we have plenty of grain for the horses, then send word to Cardo. Once you've sent the message, ride ahead to check the way. Follow the normal procedure." Solo didn't wait for a response. He and his men had their own way of understanding one another and there was no further need to clarify. Just as there was no concern that his orders would not be carried out.

He turned toward the public house where the princess and her lady were eating. They'd hit a stroke of luck upon arrival at the village past the river – they were neither loyal nor disloyal to either Deraan or Ilum – neutral.

He turned to where the sun should be in the sky and considered how hard they would have to ride to reach Bespin. He regarded the "princess royal" as she finished her simple meal with her lady in waiting. From all he already knew of her or thought he knew of her, she'd surprised him consistently since leaving Weston two days ago.

"Selfish and spoiled," is what Dameron had called her. Of course Solo had his own opinions about the General, but still, the princess had done nothing in the three years he'd guarded her to contradict Dameron's appraisal.

Except for these past two days.

Solo had expected she would fear for her brother, and blame Colin, but he had been impressed with her decision to take matters into her own hands. Whether or not her true desire was to protect her brother's throne – or to take it for herself he wasn't sure, _nor did he care_. But still, he'd found one redeemable quality that made _the mission_ less tedious.

Her mouth, however, needed to be dealt with.

His mind replayed the way her bottom lip quivered in the dim light last night. When he'd promised to show her true power. She was used to the pompous, priggish, buffoon that was Poe Dameron – she'd never known anything truly consuming and devastating – and obliterating.

The thought of opening her mind to all the possible ways he could destroy her made his cock swell within the confines of his armor.

She laughed at something Sarah said, her hair fell over her shoulder and she reached up to hook the strays behind her ear, prompting her to turn and catch his gaze. Immediately her cheeks flushed a soft reddish hue and he cursed his mind for wondering if that blush ran down the length of her body as well...

"Vicrul," Solo said lowly. He stood a few yards away, but still heard his Commander's call. He looked to his knight and watched him move to alert the women it was time to go.

Once they'd reached the edge of the village, Solo turned. The princess's face was already windblown from just the small amount of time it'd taken to ride this far.

"Don't you have a riding mask?" He asked, his voice devoid of emotion. He watched her cheeks flush again in embarrassment and her jaw tighten. As she pulled it on, Solo ignored the rush of blood again to his cock. Her defiant jaw prompted her delicious lips to sneer slightly at him and he couldn't help but imagine the shape of them wrapped snuggly around the head of his dick.

"Vicrul," he pulled his attention away from her covered mouth, "I need for you to ride back about an hour or so with Lady Sarah.” Solo had been anticipating her objection, but the lift in her voice was nonetheless exciting.

"That is highly irregular, sir. Neither I, nor Lady Sarah can ride alone with men who are not our husbands, it is improper and unrespectable." When she spoke in her normal voice, not when she was trying to get what she wanted, it was intoxicating. There was no guise to it, and the natural superiority, mixed with the right amount of confidence made his blood rush to his groin.

He clicked his heels against the horse's belly and moved closer to her. His eyes bearing into her caused her lip to quiver again and her eyes to shift back and forth before settling back on him. “The further we go into Ilum and the closer we get to Bespin, the easier it will be for someone of importance to spot us. If we travel in pairs, even if someone does recognize _your highness_ , it will be harder for them to believe you traveling alone.

"It would be better to seem irregular and improper than to be captured, tortured, raped, and killed," Solo said soft enough for her to hear the seriousness in his voice. Her eyes were saucers as understanding set in. Wanting to really push her back into her place, he leaned forward further – his voice falling even lower so only she could hear. "Would not you agree, _primadonna_?"

His eyebrow lifted slightly, and he enjoyed the clicking sound her jaw made as she clamped her mouth shut. He straightened back in his saddle and guided the horse back around.

Aware of the fact he was pushing her harder than she'd been pushed before, he waited for her a few yards away while she looked back to her lady in waiting. Her eyes were large, and she leaned over to grip her hands.

Vicrul, despite his hunger for war, was always a model of control and patience. He rode up next to Sarah and looked to the princess, "I assure you, highness, no harm will come to her – physically or otherwise," he concluded. Sarah's eyes twinkled slightly, and the princess nodded in acknowledgment of his pledge.

Solo rolled his eyes at her lack of perception. Sarah was clearly going to be the improper and unrespectable issue between the two of them, but no matter – this was not his problem; therefore he was not concerned.

He moved to face the direction they were to head in, and she stopped next to him.

"Alright, _creature_ ," she spat – her voice full of contempt, "do not expect me to thank you when this is over." Solo turned to regard the princess. Her eyes were full of venom and he could feel the daggers she'd no doubt be throwing at him if she could.

He ignored her words – she really had no idea what was in store for her. He urged the horse around, preparing to ride when she spoke again.

“And you may address me as ‘princess’ or ‘highness’, I am not some _pet_ for you to assign a childish name to. You will address me correctly, _creature_ , or I’ll-”

Solo expertly maneuvered the horse towards her and pushed into her space – enjoying the fear leaking from her body as his sudden movement stopped her mouth. He leaned over, face level with hers. She was quiet, and leaning back in her saddle, trying to minimize her existence.

“Ah,” he sighed – content with her silence, “please continue, primadonna.” Solo reached up to pull the mask away from his mouth – her eyes fell straight to his lips then back to his eyes. “Only one of us understands punishment, and my hands itch to train you well…”

The menacing whisper of his voice over her skin and the understanding hat settled in her big eyes aroused him beyond belief. He sat back upright on his horse, turned it around, and began riding – hard. 

This foolish little girl was going to force his control to snap – and that he could not allow. 

He did not wait to see if she followed – perhaps this would be easier if she didn’t. He imagined her being captured there where he left her. He felt some relief at the idea that she would no longer be his problem, but then his mind filled with his master’s last command. 

Solo craned his neck to see she was riding hard to catch up to him. A moment of relief flooded him. 

_Failure was not an option_.


	5. The Promise Land

Daylight quickly faded away and you'd yet to see signs of the capital of Ilum.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were lost.

While your horse continued to gallop at full speed, following closely behind Solo's, you leaned forward and turned your neck from side to side. Large expanses of farmlands lay to the left and to the right, a dense dark forest encroached on the pristinely manicured fences. Looking up to the sky you noticed no stars or moon, just a cloudy, lightless night.

"Oy!" you hollered as loudly as possible, hoping he'd hear you over the powerful horses' hooves and the strong wind slapping what little amount of skin open to the elements. You pulled on the reins to slow your horse and took a deep breath.

"SOLO," you screamed at the top of your lungs.

He stopped only seconds later and turned around. It was difficult for you to differentiate him from the horse – he was just one giant shadow, trotting towards you. After a short moment, he was sitting directly next to you, his leg brushing against yours. He didn't say anything, but you heard the rapidness of his breath. Your inability to see his face in the darkness, coupled with his relative silence made you uneasy, but you did not look away.

"Sir, we clearly will not make it to Bespin and it is night already. Should we not find lodging?"

As your eyes adjusted, you watched as he removed the hood and mask covering most of his face. He looked to the sky, his dark hair contrasting against his lite skin - almost glowing in the night.

He dismounted from his horse and took the reins from your hands. He turned toward the dark forest and led you through a slight break in the trees.

His quick reaction caught you off guard. "But- but, sir..." Surely, he didn't mean for you to sleep out here, in the night!

He ignored the concern in your voice, like you knew he would. You'd been sitting too high and a branch slapped your bare cheek. You leaned forward, pressing your stinging cheek into the horse's mane, willing the tears to stay locked away. 

Unfortunately, since you'd had no time to process the past several days of events and were now, yourself with a stranger in a strange land - the emotions were overbearing. How had this happened? Lost in the forest with this brute of a man as your only protection – as your only companion. And you'd yet to decide on what you would even say to Armitage. Would he even help, or was he the one trying to wipe out your family's existence?

You tilted your face up to see Solo standing only a few inches away, his shoulder beneath the horse's mouth. Then your tears began to fall freely.

You missed your parents. You missed your strong father who wouldn't have allowed things to have deteriorated this way. You missed your beautiful mother – wise and patient; she would've known what to do right now. You missed your little brother, who you'd let be taken away from you. Why didn't you fight harder to keep him close?

And even Poe. You found yourself missing his love and careful attention.

_Had you taken advantage of his sweet consideration for you? Had you not appreciated him...?_

You watched Solo's hair as it swung back and forth from the gait of his walk. Poe would have found a place for you to sleep. He would have made sure you'd been fed hours ago. He wouldn't have threatened you and frightened you and made you feel like a child.

Poe would have _loved_ you.

As you continued to go over in your mind all the ways your life had spiraled, the worst happened; _you sniffled._

Solo stopped and turned back to face you. He studied you for a quiet moment while you kept your gaze down – focusing on the sheer size of his feet compared to the horse's hoof.

 _Extraordinary_.

"Seven hells," he grumbled under his breath. "What is it," he asked gruffly.

He made no attempt to move, nor did he sigh heavily-expressing his annoyance; he was actually waiting for you to say something. But what could you say? What could you _possibly_ say that he wouldn't mock or humiliate you for? So instead of saying anything you simply shook your head and wiped your eyes.

He remained unmoving and you willed yourself to stop crying – to no avail. The night was quiet; the only sound filling the silence was his even breathing. After another silent moment though, you felt a strong, warm grip envelop both of your hands.

You looked down to see Solo squeezing you.

"Just a moment more, _primadonna_ ," he spoke softly, letting that honey in his voice surround you. He called you that name again, but the way he said it this time wasn't mocking. His tone reminded you of the way you spoke to your brother, after mother and father died, kind and comforting.

You shifted your gaze from his hand to his face. It was still difficult to see clearly in the night. Despite his comforting tone, you were unable to accept his pity – no matter how sincere it may have been.

You jerked your hands from his grasp and glared at him, firmly setting your jaw.

"Mind yourself, _creature_." Your voice lacked the amount of acid you'd meant to spit at him, but _honestly_. He threatens you and is now trying to comfort you? Certainly not. 

His eyes narrowed at your response, but you ignored the spike of fear that creeped along your spine.

"I do believe you were instructed not to call me that, again." He turned his whole body to face you.

"Who are you to instruct me to do anything?" You leaned toward him, feigning courage.

He sucked in a small breath and jerked his head back in response. You felt proud of yourself for finally having the final word, but that pride was short lived.

Quicker than a flash, he'd grabbed your upper arms, pulled you from the horse's back and was shoving you into the nearest tree. He was so quick you'd had no time to scream or protest in the slightest, and the moment your back hit the solid wood, a large leather hand clamped firmly over your lips – preventing you from making any noise.

His fingers were digging into the soft part of your arm while he was pushing your harder into the ancient oak. He was hurting you, and he had not the slightest care.

It didn't occur to you until later that night that you could have struggled and kicked against him, but truth be told, there wasn't a bone in your body that was willing to wiggle free of his grasp. He was so close to you, his eyes like black hollow holes in the darkness; warmth from his massive frame radiating through you.

His thumb traced along the edge of your jaw, and up over the tender pain on your check - from the tree branch. His fingers remained planted over your mouth, and he leaned into you further, making it harder for you to breathe.

"I wonder," his voice dangerously low, "what I could do to stop your _rude, spoiled_ mouth from angering me further." He tilted his head as your eyes widened in shock. He removed his hands from covering your mouth, but ran his large index finger across your lips, then squeezing them gently; watched them pucker in his grasp.

He licked his lips maliciously and you couldn't help your eyes falling to his delicious mouth – wondering what they would feel like on your skin. An alarm went off in your mind and you forced your gaze back up to the shadows of his eyes.

 _Too late_ , he'd seen your preoccupation with his mouth and groaned.

Solo's face hovered above yours while his hand drifted to your neck. He tightened his grip slightly, causing your pulse to quicken. He leaned further down till his mouth was next to your ear.

"If you call me that again, there will be _consequences_." The finality of his tone sent another shiver through your core – landing squarely at the juncture between your legs. It was more than a promise he was offering – it was an _absolute certainty_. "Do you understand me," he asked plainly, removing his hand from around your throat.

You nodded in response, but his grip returned to your face. Pinching your chin between his fingers, Solo pulled your gaze back up to his.

"Answer me," he growled quietly.

"Yes, Commander," you said through gritted teeth, then jerked your chin out of his grasp.

He walked away from you and began unpacking his saddle while you glanced around the small clearing.

 _Of course_. Of course he meant for you to sleep _here_ – with _no_ shelter _or_ water. With _no_ warmth or place to relieve yourself... He was an animal; _a barbarian_.

"Come here," he ordered. You didn't want to obey, but you were honestly afraid of what he would do if you did not. 

He took his cloak off and wrapped it around your shoulders, pulled the thick hood over your head. You hadn't realized how cold you were till the residual warmth, still lingering within the fabric, enveloped you. You fought to keep from letting out a moan of appreciation.

"There is a grouping of three trees to your right," he spoke without looking at you, "wedge yourself between them, rest, and I will be back shortly." You turned and squinted in the dark to discover what he was talking about. You just barley saw what he was referring to, but felt panic begin to fill your belly.

"Sir, I-"

He turned his face to you, cutting off your protests. The only emotion stronger than your fear at the moment was exhaustion, so you nodded and walked toward them.

The heaviness of his cloak on your shoulders was intense and you struggled slightly to adjust the immense length beneath you. He came from behind you and without a word lifted you in his arms like a child. Unprepared for the sudden loss of your legs, you clutched onto his chest and let out a small gasp. He arranged the cloak beneath your legs and leaned over to set you down between the trees.

"You must stop that, Commander," you said stiffly under your breath - less of a command and more of child pouting. His only response was a cocky smile.

A soft pile of leaves crunched beneath your weight. He turned to grab the reins of your horse and led him towards you. He clicked his tongue and pulled the giant animal down in front of you.

"I will be back," he said, walking toward his own horse. Without his cape billowing behind him, you saw clearly how wide and tall he was. "Don't move," he ordered as he mounted, then in another moment he was off.

You watched his figure fading into the darkness of the woods then turned your head back to the horse who was resting quietly next to you. Between the cloak's amazing ability to retain the warmth and the horse's presence, you knew at the very least you wouldn't freeze to death. But how could he leave you alone in the middle of nowhere?

As the silence settled over you, you felt yourself leaning further into the alcove of the trees, unable to keep your eye lids open any longer.

Somewhere between the cold breeze shifting the leaves in the trees above and the steady breathing of the horse at your feet, you drifted off to sleep – trying to ignore how amazing the cloak wrapped around you smelled and failing miserably.

\------

You were too warm.

Something heavy was hanging over your shoulder and you couldn't move your head. You tried to stretch as well, but something surrounded you – limiting your movements entirely.

You opened your eyes against the dark light surrounding you. Your looked to the sky and were able to see stars filling the sky. You took a deep breath and released the steam from your mouth.

It wasn't this cold earlier...

You tried to turn again but your body was stiff from being in one position for so long. You tilted your head and realized why you were so warm and confined.

Nestled behind you was Solo. You realized you were laying against his arm, propped up on his knee. You were between his legs.

Despite how improper this was, you couldn't bring yourself to want to move. You turned back to see his sleeping face and slowly twisted your body to face him. The heavy cloak was wrapped tightly around you but turning was surprisingly easy.

The way he was draped between the tree made it easy for you to lean your head into his shoulder. The soft light of the moon streamed over his sleeping form and you followed the curiosity in your gut; slowly reaching out and gently pulling his hair from his face.

He was so handsome. It stopped your heart how beautiful he was. The curve of his lips formed a slight pout and you wondered what he had looked like as a child. A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you instantly stiffened. He turned his head towards you, eyes still closed in slumber, and you relaxed again.

You wiggled your toes and noticed how much longer and bigger his legs and feet were than yours. His other hand rested on his outstretched leg and you gaped at the size of his fingers.

You should have felt angry with him for moving into your space like this; _lying with a man who wasn't your husband_. So inappropriate and uncivilized, yet your heart pounded in your chest from excitement. His body was long and hard beneath you...

He groaned in his sleep and you thought for certain the over pumping of your heart would wake him for sure.

Solo's lips beckoned to you like a pillow would entice you to find comfort. The warmth of his body and the strength exuding from his massive arms and legs was too much to bear. You felt yourself moving towards his face without really meaning to.

You parted your lips in anticipation and your heart skipped a beat. What felt like tiny shocks running up and down your arms and fingers – underneath your skin propelled you forward, knowing that once you touched him, they would have to stop.

_Right?_

You were nearly there; the tumultuous journey to reach the promise land was near an end, you could taste the dark sinew on the tip of your tongue... The pounding in your chest was reverberating through your body as you neared your final destination.

An ache deep within your body propelled you further - ignoring call to propriety. Something about this dark, beautiful _creature_ beckoned to something primal within you, and here in the desolate forest you knew you must seize your chance to fall headfirst into the abyss.

As you neared the relief for your crushing desire, his dark voice filled the space between your bodies, throwing your words from earlier back at you.

"Perhaps you should mind yourself," he opened his eyes to regard you properly and finished with a devious grin, " _primadonna_."


	6. A Dangerous Man

Solo rode several yards away to set up a dying fire and mock camp, then doubled back on foot to help conceal their true location. The dual lined cloak he'd wrapped Princess in would be enough to keep them both warm till morning, despite the temperature drop that was coming.

Once Solo arrived, he found her curled comfortably into herself; the cloak providing the perfect shelter in the night. In the time he'd been gone the clouds had cleared away, allowing the moonlight to cast its shadows through the leaves. He stood for a moment – appreciating her stunning, silent state.

He'd also taken notice of how her fingers curled around the nape of the cloak and had it pressed to her lips and nose. She inhaled and let out a soft sigh – it sounded like contentment, but Solo wouldn't allow his self to ponder that any further.

After he'd gently lifted her, then sat back down (situating her between his legs) he wrapped her back into the cloak and propped her against his elevated arm draped over his knee.

He stared at her profile... Princess was so pliable and manageable when she was asleep, he thought idly. He took a deep breath, leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. He'd drifted off, considering how difficult it was going to be, taming her.

Difficult, yes, but so enjoyable...

\-----

Solo had awoken the moment he felt her stir. Her breathing had changed and gone was his pliable princess – she stiffened, realizing she was more confined than before. He remained "asleep" to see what she might do.

She'd sat up and Solo imagined her face once she realized she was between his legs. Her nose would crinkle slightly, and her eyes would turn to slits as she glared at him. But, when she shifted to lay her head in the crook of his arm – pressing her hip softly against his groin, he fought to suppress a groan of appreciation for the pressure she was inadvertently applying.

Things only intensified when she tilted again, perfectly grinding against him. He wasn't sure what she was doing until he felt a warm finger against his skin. She was gently touching his forehead, pushing his hair to the side.

It was the oddest sensation that filled his body when she let loose a sigh of ... _what was it? appreciation_?

Her body relaxed again, causing a groan to escape his chest. She was rubbing her body against his cock but was completely unaware of what she was doing; he was sure. If she didn't stop moving, however, he was going to have to finish what she was starting – whether she liked it or not.

Princess shifted yet again. Instead of staying still, she was pulling her upper body towards him so slowly. He wasn't sure what she was going to do, only that he could sense adrenaline flooding her veins. Her breathing had intensified to the point he could feel her warm, sweet breaths coming in short spurts.

Solo wasn't able to hide his curiosity any longer and opened his eyes ever so slightly to see what she was doing. Her focus was on his mouth and he could no longer hide his amusement.

"Perhaps you should mind yourself," he opened his eyes fully and grinned, " _primadonna_."

Like a child, caught in the act of mischievousness, she stilled entirely. Solo admired how innocent her eyes appeared in the darkness as her pale skin deepened beneath his gaze.

Princess remained slowly backed away from him, quite embarrassed, but Solo was not ready for her to retreat just yet. He ran his hands up her sides and wrapped his grip around her upper arms. She stiffened in his grasp and slightly jerked back – acting like she didn't want this; acting like she hadn't been about to steal a kiss from him, herself.

"You know I can take whatever I want," his voice like a smooth dagger, pierced her to the center of her existence.

Princess's jaw tightened and her eyes darkened. Solo rolled his lips, running his tongue along his teeth, feeling her body straining against his grip – trying to pull away. Poe was right about one thing; her stubbornness was intoxicating.

*snap*

Solo's grin fell away instantly, and he pulled her against his side as he sat straight up – acutely aware that someone else was out there. He glanced over to the camp he'd set up and was unable to see any embers remaining but could make out the shape of his horse he'd left there.

"Solo," she spoke, prompting his hand to immediately cover her mouth. The look in his eyes was strong enough to silence any further noise from her lips. He shook his head gently and pointed to the horse at their feet.

It was still on the ground, but its ears were pointed back and he knickered slightly – also aware there was someone else out there.

An eerie silence settled over the forest and Solo could not help but notice how she pressed herself tighter to him, genuinely afraid of whatever awaited them, hidden in the darkness. He turned his head to her and pressed his mouth close to her ear.

"Do not move," he commanded, gently pulling something from his boot and pressing it firmly into her hands. He pulled away to see her eyes widen as the realization set in of what he'd put in her hands. A frighteningly large dagger; the blade longer than her own hand. Horror settled over her as she looked back to him.

He lifted his long leg and moved to leave when her small fingers shot out, reaching for anything to make him stop. Solo felt her hand land on his thigh, and he glanced back down to her. Her genuine fear calling to him.

His primadonna was afraid. Solo didn't want to acknowledge that the true terror in her eyes slightly excited him.

He reached down to gently touch her cheek, then continued his stealth departure into the night – leaving her, for the second time, to impatiently await his return.

***

He'd left you, again, to fend for yourself in the darkness. You looked down to consider the giant blade he'd left in your hands.

In his massive grip it fit perfect, but in yours... You'd might as well have been holding a sword – there was no way you would be able to wield it properly.

The hair on your neck prickled at the tiniest sounds popping up all around. You were shivering and holding the grip of the blade so hard your fingers were aching – yet you didn't dare relax.

A terrible shriek pierced the night and you turned, pointing the dangerous blade in the direction of the noise. What sounded like someone smacking dough against a hard marble surface filled the silence and you backed further into the alcove of the trees.

The high-pitched tone of the person yelling didn't match the deep baritone of Solo's, but you couldn't have been sure.

If it was Solo's, then you weren't safe. If he was in the process of being killed – for that's exactly what it sounded like; someone losing a fight for life – you couldn't just stay here and wait to be captured. He had said to stay put, but he wasn't here. He'd left you.

You faced the horse, his ears and head twitching back and forth – following the continued yelling and blood curdling cries. You reached over to run your hand down the stallion's nose trying to sooth him.

" _Shh_ , you must relax," you whispered into his ear.

No sooner had the words escaped your lips than a pair of arms encircled you, jerking you out into the open. The scent of rotted fish and mold filled your senses and you jerked against the force pinning your arms down; it wasn't Solo.

You thrashed against the skinny arms around you, trying to move the knife in your hand to bury it into something that would cause them to release you

"Oi, settle down, fucking bitch," the slimy voice said against your ear.

Your blood ran cold but you refused to let this animal cart you away like a piece of meat. You leaned forward as hard as you could, pulling against his arms as much as possible, then threw your head back with as much force as you could muster.

The plan worked. The back of your head connected with something equally hard and your assailant immediately released his hold on you – spewing out a string of curses.

You dropped to the ground, not once losing hold on the dagger in your hand and twisted around. You tried to push yourself up from the ground, but the long heavy cloak hindered your ability to gain enough traction to stand. The harder you kicked to move, the tighter the knot around your neck became.

You gave up trying to stand and just remained on the ground, gripping the only form of protection he'd left you with. The moonlight illuminated the outline of the man hunched over, a few yards from you, gripping his nose and continuing to spew profanities.

Within moments, however, a massive dark figure silently breezed past you to the man still gripping his face. He was so consumed by his own pain, you almost felt bad – he never stood a chance.

Solo grabbed him by the nape of his neck, yanked him backwards. He was so massive and poised you had to squint to catch what was happening. The man who'd attacked you was leaning backwards, his head cradled in Solo's arm. So quickly, you almost missed it, it looked like Solo ran his other hand over the man's face. The profanities stopped immediately and after a few odd gurgling noises, Solo released his grip – allowing your assailant to drop lifelessly to the ground. The effortless ease he displayed while ending the man's life was oddly and dangerously erotic.

Solo turned around slowly, his gaze going straight to you. He was breathing heavily and in the dim light of the night you were able to see dark smears over his face. His hair slightly wet from what you hoped was sweat – but what you knew was not.

He moved slowly to you with his hands raised, like how a child would approach a wounded animal.

"It's alright, princess..." his voice was low and calming.

It wasn't until that moment you realized how hard you were shaking – dagger still angled up toward him. He continued moving to you, then you felt his warm hand wrap around your fist. He worked to pry the weapon from your grasp.

Once the blade had been removed from your hands, you took a deep breath – silent sobs shaking your entire body.

"It's alright, my sweet primadonna – everything is alright," he pulled your quaking body into his arms and squeezed you against his giant chest.

You were so stiff. you tried to relax but an odd metallic odor filled your nose and you felt everything but comfort. You pushed against his chest, trying to right yourself – you didn't need his help. It was his fault you'd been exposed and possibly kidnapped in the first place.

He'd left you, all alone.

"I do not need your help, creature," your voice slightly betraying you as it cracked on the last syllable.

"Hmm," was the only sound that emerged from his chest as he allowed you the ability to straighten – away from him. You remembered his earlier warning of what would happen, were you to call him that again, but you did not care.

Solo stood to his full height, offering you his giant hand to stand. You pushed it away and managed to get to your feet, despite him.

"Are you going to tell me what has happened here? Or must we maintain the suspense?" You reached down to straighten your gown and adjust the cloak. Anything to avoid looking up at the behemoth of a man before you – anything to ignore the ever-growing hunger in the lower portion of your pelvis.

"These men were sent to abduct you."

"Well, I suppose that answers the questions of it Armitage is wholly against me then..."

"I did not say they came from Hux, princess." The smooth current of his voice did not change. There was no difference between his effort to comfort you or his impartation of critical information.

You turned to face him. "I don't understand," you finally squeaked out.

Solo spoke as he worked over the man's corpse. "This man, he bears no sigil – no colors." He pulled something from the man's boot and his belt then turned towards you, still kneeling. The other two there," he motioned to the area he'd come from, "they also have nothing distinguishable to help decipher who they serve."

You gulped.

Certainly, Colin was not this desperate to be rid of you, to send assassins to try and kill you. And you were in Ilum at last. Armitage wouldn't have felt the need to kidnap or attack you at night – you were already on his land, he had the upper hand.

A chill crept up your spine at the thought that there might be an unseen third party at work, trying to thwart you – or worse.

"We cannot linger," Solo's voice pulled you from your turning mind. You moved toward him, but apparently your movement was not quick enough for him. He grabbed your arm and soon you were running to keep up with his long strides.

After reaching your horse, he lifted you without a word, sat you in the saddle then hoisted his self up behind you. Before you could object, his arms were around you, grabbing the reins then maneuvering the horse around.

The last thing you saw before the forest became a blur in the night was a fire burning hot. Two men were leaning against a log and his own horse still stood calmly tethered to a tree near the serene looking campsite. You would have thought that both men were merely sleeping – had it not been for the terrifying slashes across their throats.

You turned your face away and screwed your eyes shut as the dark and dangerous man behind you tightened his grip on the reins.


	7. Just the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: slightly graphic/erotic situations  
> NSFW

"Wake up, _primadonna_ ," a rough voice barked.

You hadn't realized you'd fallen asleep – you didn't even think you could, with the horse's nonstop galloping and his arms like shackles around you. You opened your eyes.

There was green everywhere.

Not the lackluster green you'd grown accustomed to in Weston, but brilliant shades of every layer of green imaginable. You had to remain still for a moment to determine if you were truly awake.

Instead of the overcast grey tinting everything, a brilliant crisp light drifted through the tops of the trees. The shadows it cast created a sort of kaleidoscope over the colors filling your vision. The trees were large here – untouched by man. Some were growing backward and into others, some had fallen from old age and lay along the forest floor – covered in squishy bright green moss. The horse beneath you was drinking from a small stream slowly running over pebbles and through stones covered in a deep hunter shade that turned brighter the closer it grew towards the sun.

The air was still lite, but this section of the woods had been untouched by winter's harsh weather.

It was mesmerizing.

As you continued to soak in the rich colors you noticed Solo standing a few feet away, his eyes locked on you. No hint of a smile or a scowl – just nothing. There was never any way to decipher what he was thinking. It bothered you how he sat there, silently calculating. 

"What is it, _creature_?" You snapped. You hated his superior silence - his unnerving way of cultivating his opinion of you without speaking to you at all. If only he'd been someone else, _anyone_ _else_ would've sufficed.

He tilted his head at your response. You weren't sure why you were acting this way - he'd threatened you enough and he didn't seem like the type of man to _not_ keep his word, but you couldn’t stop. Perhaps it was your lack of sleep and the growing hunger, both literal and … _physical_. Your cheeks reddened at your very inappropriate thoughts. You realized your annoyance was with yourself. Why hadn't you accepted Poe's offer to escort you?

"Well, are you going to help me down or not?" You glared back to Solo, trying to lessen some of the attitudes you'd already shown him, but not erasing them.

He moved toward you slowly, every step like a nail being hammered into the coffin you'd built yourself. Nausea from the day before settled deep in your stomach.

 _It’s not like he can really hurt me…_ You thought.

When his slow journey ended at your feet, you rethought your confidence. You were looking down at him but even despite the fact you now towered over him – you still felt incredibly small; you gulped. 

_He **can** hurt me, _you thought, _he can hurt me rather easily..._

"I warned you, did I not?" His voice was dark; causing butterflies to fill your stomach.

"Solo, I only m-" before you could finish, he had ripped you from the horse's back, spun you around, and slammed you against yet another tree.

"Shut your _little -_ _fucking_ \- _mouth_ , princess." The pauses he had taken between each word had somehow made the power behind them much more terrifying. But his voice was only a whisper - the shadow of control falling away from his face. The edges of his hair trembled as his grip around you intensified. 

Your body betrayed you by instantly reacting to the authority dripping from his voice. Your eyes widened and your jaw clamped shut in response.

" _Mmm_ ," he growled, "much better."

You were flush up against the hard lines of his body. Your hands dangled by your side as his arms remained a prison around you. Your lungs were unable to fill with air, so within moments you were panting. The mesmerizing amber of his eyes drifted over your mouth, past your neck, and was engrossed by the swell of your breasts, no doubt rising and falling with the overwhelming pulse of your heart.

Solo lifted his free hand and traced the outline of your lips with a gloved finger. The feel of the worn, cold leather didn't faze you.

"Did I not warn you?" Solo's voice was softer now; his breath warm as it fell over your cold cheeks. "You may answer me, _little girl_." You closed your lips and swallowed, trying to wet the dry desert in your throat.

"Yes," you whispered, genuinely afraid of what he would do.

"Hmm, how very improper for you to answer me so informally, _primadonna_. Yes, what?" his voice was low and dangerous; his fingers still running over the edges of your lips – consumed by them.

"Yes, _Commander_."

"Mmm, there's a good girl," he pushed against your bottom lip. "Open," he said darkly. You were confused by what he was referring to, but his finger pressed harder against your lips. Your wide eyes stared into his – tethered to the mix of fear and power. 

The warm haze in his eyes was different now. Darker somehow, much more haunting.

Every inch of your body seemed to come alive – almost like fire was spreading over your skin. He was filling all your senses and your body could do nothing but obey. The second your lips parted he slid his first two fingers inside.

You whimpered against the foreign sensation of his large fingers gliding over your tongue. He was holding you so tightly in just one arm, and now his hand was in your mouth – breathing was becoming a problem.

The rough seam along his finger pushed against the roof of your mouth while the smooth leather pushed into your cheek. His breathing intensified, and your eyes widened as you felt him growing stiff against your belly.

"You feel that, don't you? You see what you have done to me? You _spoiled little brat_ ," the dark tenor of his voice was hypnotizing.

You were struggling to process how aroused you were when his fingers forced themselves to the back of your throat. You jerked at the sudden invasion, but he held you firm in his grasp. He pushed his fingers in and out at a steady, rough pace – forcing your saliva to build up and begin spilling for your mouth. The odd, squishing noise made the pressure in your pelvis build.

The length of his fingers pushing against the limits of your throat forced you to gag. You weren't trying to keep your eyes focused on him, but you were nonetheless. Each time your body heaved and clenched you noticed the desire in eyes deepen. He was enjoying this...

"Oh, what a good nasty whore you are, _primadonna_ ," he whispered between gritted teeth. You squeezed your eyes shut as he continued forcing his fingers down – a few tears escaped and rushed over your cheeks.

"Mmm, my _sweet_ primadonna..." he murmured, then spread his fingers apart. The sudden strain and force in your throat caused you to jerk uncontrollably beneath his hands – flailing your arms out and clutching anything to make his assault stop. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled, trying to lift yourself up to free yourself from his long fingers slipping in and out of your mouth; but he only held you tighter.

He gave into your reaction and stopped moving his fingers at the rough pace. Instead, he spread them-pressing hard against the confines of your throat. Saliva continued to seep down and pool on your chest, sliding between your breasts as they were forced together by his _tight_ embrace.

"Breathe," he commanded – his voice loud and unflinching. He had stopped pushing his fingers apart but left them lodged in your throat. You relaxed slightly, moving your grip from his hair to his wrist.

You had to consciously obey his order - your body still jerking from the foreign invasion. He loosened his hold – only slightly.

"That's a _good girl_ , just breathe..." You continued to breathe, not easily and opened your eyes to watch him.

The pained look on his face and the impressive, hard edge of what you knew was his cock pressing into your stomach spurred on the part of you that was intensely aroused by this odd/erotic behavior. You weren't bold enough to egg him on further, but you realized now that the same hunger within him was rooted deep within you.

You closed your lips over his fingers to and rand your tongue along the length of his fingers then released your hold on his wrist – allowing your hands to once again dangle by your side. His expressive eyes widened at your response and he tore you from the tree and slammed you down to the ground. 

“ _Ahh_ ,” he sighed as he continued to press you harder into the ground – fingers still filling your mouth – your saliva now sliding down over your throat to the back of your neck. “How naïve you are, little girl,” his warm breath fell over your face and you realized how cold your body was – despite the current of fire running through your veins. 

You sighed in contentment and watched an amused expression play across his face and eventually change again. _He was impressed._ He pushed his fingers back together and forced them back a little more, one final time.

"You don’t know anything, _little girl_ ,” he murmured against your skin, “You’ve no idea how _thoroughly_ I **will** destroy your _royal_ cunt.” 

You should have been mortified by his language and hate him, but you couldn't. For some reason, the image of cream about to drip from a spoon enters your mind and you are instantly aware of your starved desires. He wasn’t asking you anything, he was clearly telling you what he was going to _do_ to you. Solo was right, you were stupid and naïve – you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. 

You sucked in as much air as possible and mustered as must strength as you could to push against his colossal frame. He looked down between your bodies – his hair falling in your face as he watched you push your legs apart for him to nestle between.

Solo sucked in a sharp breath, snapping his eyes back to yours. His fingers somehow burning your mouth and you tried to cry out against the combination of the heat and force. He lowered his face to yours and pushed his lips to your cheek. At first, you thought he was kissing you - the way his soft lips pressed tenderly into your flesh, but you quickly realized he was gently licking the tears spilling from your eyes. 

“ _You foolish, foolish girl_ ,” he growled between clenched teeth, then somehow pushed his fingers down harder before instantly removing his hand from your throat and standing away from you. 

The sudden force of his absence and rush of fresh air unleashed a violent torrent of coughing and gasping. You rolled over onto your side – struggling to unblur your vision. Solo’s boots moved into your line of sight and you looked up over the expanse of his body and found no warmth in his eyes. There seemed to be no evidence of the arousal you had for sure felt digging into your waist, nor did his face look at all tortured as it had, only moments before. 

He reached down, and you recoiled from his hand – not from fear, or at least you didn’t think it was fear. 

Solo ignored your reaction and placed his hands under your arms, pulling you gently to your feet. He grabbed a flask hanging from the horse and pulled the top off. He handed it to you, and you took it – not meeting his eyes. The liquid burned down your abused throat – but warmed you from within and helped to awaken you from the daze of the past few moments. As you lowered the flask, the rum still burning on your lips, you watched Solo. 

He was looking at the stream of water, the profile of his face beautiful against the mesmerizing greens behind him. His breathing was slowing, and his eyes were closed – the line of his jaw tightened then relaxed and he turned back to face you. Something was different about him. You studied the calm demeanor of his face and the rigid strength in his shoulders. This Solo was not the Solo who’d forced you from the horse and rooted two fingers down your throat. 

_Was that it? Was that your punishment?_

You took another drink – this time longer. He frightened you, yes, but that was _definitely_ not the only emotion he’s stirred within you. As you waited for him to do something, _anything_ , the sounds of people nearby pulled you from the dazed thoughts filling your mind. There was still a King to confront and loyalties to be pledged. Your brother, your uncle, Sarah and Reya... You didn't have time to entertain this creature in the woods. 

“How much further until we reach Ilum?” You tried to ignore the rawness in your voice and push past the pain in your throat. “We must press on, sir." You would take control of the situation and steer him back on course. He was clearly overwhelmed with what had happened. It was your job to remind him of the mission at hand. 

“Yes,” he replied and said nothing further. Unhooking his hands from behind his back he moved around the horse, pulled out a few apples, and tossed one to you.

You pushed the dark red apple to your lips and inhaled its sweet scent. Before you opened your eyes, you felt Solo’s hands wrap around your waist and lift you back on top of the horse. He was pulling his self behind you a moment later. 

There was a deep hum within your body as he settled behind you. You watched his long arms wrap back around you and pull the reins of the horse to guide him away from his moment of refreshing. As you began to move, something ridged rocked against your back. You smiled to yourself – content that you at least had caused him discomfort too. 

You lifted the apple back to your lips and began devouring the sweet fruit. 

"I know what you are thinking, _primadonna_ ," his mouth was a breath away from your ear and you shrank away from its sudden proximity, "but be warned - we have only just begun." 

The satisfaction of winning whatever contest he'd put you through before faded as the horse made its way back to the edge of the forest. You looked down at the apple in your hand - with a giant bite missing. the fruit was still in your mouth, but its taste had turned to ash. What did he mean?

What had you done...? 

As the questions rolled around in your mind, you realized the gates to Ilum were less than a mile away. You swallowed down the soured fruit in your mouth as the realization settled. 

You were only moments away from potentially fixing the incursion at home - but you could not even feel relief for having made it this far. A dark threat sat quietly behind you - the promise of further punishment still evident by the unrelenting ridge still digging into your back. 


	8. Safe House

Solo guided the horse through the merchant gate of Ilum. He’d managed to slip discreetly in with a diverse caravan – all on their way to deliver _produce_. 

He kept his eyes forward – focused on the road ahead but noticed princess’s head turning to eye the carts around them. Several wagons were covered, but some were filled to the brim with grain and hay; others – bags filled tightly with brass and gold goblets and plates. She studied a cart full of men and women – standing in thread bare garments, collars secured tightly around their necks. 

_Does she understand they are ‘produce’ as well?_ She twitched against his chest, realization settling in on what the people in the cart were; _she’s so unbearably innocent_. Solo clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on the reins; not sure if it was irritation or jealousy he felt burning in his gut. 

He urged the horse to move quicker, away from the human livestock and filth of the traders pouring into Ilum – ready to deposit her at her destination and _begin_. They rode through a few back streets and arrived at a stone house at the edge of a series of store fronts and tents. 

Solo noticed Vicrul’s horse a few yards away – tethered in front of the pub and guided his horse to the same spot. He dismounted with ease and turned to her; she was already slipping down without _whining_ about needing help. Her dress rode up slightly, over her leg – he was able to see the shape of her leg as the dark color of her stockings contrasted against the white of her petticoat. 

The princess turned to see him glaring at her, nostrils flared, and eyebrows drawn together. She returned his glare for a moment but cast her gaze down rather quickly. His eyebrow raised in response to her uncharacteristic silence. 

_Was it because of the slaves? The knowledge that this world was not as black and white as she originally thought? Or was it something else? Was she still reeling for his hand in her mouth? From the sensation of being **truly** powerless…? _

Solo fixated upon her, struggling to discern the reason for her timid demeanor. She lifted her large eyes to his and his breath hitched for a brief moment. 

Raucous laughter drifted to them from the pub, reminding him they weren’t safe yet. Solo turned and stalked toward the stone house but paused for a moment – casting his gaze over his left shoulder, silently communicating for her to hurry along. She moved to his side and waited for him to continue. 

They moved together, in silence. With each step, his frustration grew. His careless behavior with her was not part of his assignment. His _need to_ _teach_ that mouth a lesson was not why he was here.

 _Focus_ , he thought to his self. **_She_** _is not the mission_. 

***

“My lady!”

The moment the door closed behind you; Sarah rushed to you and you’d never felt more relieved to see her face. You opened to embrace her, and she bent to wrap her longs around you. You caught Solo’s eyes as you ran your hands over her back – choosing to ignore the quickening deep within your belly.

“My lady, I’m so glad you’re alright!” You heard the faint sound of tears in her voice as you continued stroking her trembling body. She took a deep breath and stepped back but continued to cling to your hands. “I feared the worst when we arrived here before you.” You smiled at her then took a look around. 

“What is this place?”

A small table with three chairs sat undisturbed in the corner nearest the front door. There was no hearth – no warmth or light aside from the mildly brilliant light spilling through the grimy windows. 

“I think it’s a safe house of Commander Solo’s.” She glanced over her shoulder. Vicrul stood at the back of the room with another knight, dressed identically to both he and Solo. They were looking down at a larger table filling the space. “I can’t say for certain, my lady,” she moved to block your view of them men and dropped her voice to a whisper, “but I’m not entirely sure they are here for you…” 

Your eyes narrowed as her words floated around your mind, attaching themselves to everything that had happened just in the last day. 

You hadn’t thought to question Solo about the ambush last night, nor had you demanded an explanation as to why he’d taken you through the merchant gate of Ilum. 

You grimaced; of course… You’d been thoroughly _distracted_ by the eroticism you’d experienced with him... 

Your grip tightened around Sarah’s fingers – _stupid little fool_. You purposed within yourself to take better control – moving forward. (You relaxed your fingers, still held tight in Sarah’s – forcing yourself not to scratch the lite layer of saliva still coating your neck.)

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and you noticed a set of narrow stairs along the right wall. Several voices speaking at once floated to you from the second floor followed by chairs scrapping along floorboards. 

“Also, highness,” Sarah’s soft voice drew your attention back to her, but she paused – unable to continue. A door opened and pulled your attention back to the noises. Within moments three more knights had descended; the two dressed like Solo walked straight to where he stood, while the shorter one wearing the dark armor of _home_ remained at the base of the stairs. 

“Highness,” the soldier’s familiar voice called. Sarah dropped your hands with an apologetic look and moved to stand behind you.

Poe stepped into focus and the taste in your mouth disappeared. You sucked in a sharp breath and for reasons you didn’t understand, you turned to gauge Solo’s reaction. He was focused on Vicrul standing next to him now, not paying attention to you at all. 

“My lady,” Poe’s voice called again – pulling your focus. You turned to face him and tried to decipher if you were relieved or angry to see him standing here. _Who was with John?_

“Sir, I…” you stammered, still confused. Poe’s lips pulled into the chiseled grin that you’d loved so much. But you weren’t happy to see him. Was he here for you? How was he even here? How had he beaten you here? Where was Reya? Had he heard about the ambush?

_Did Solo bring him here?_

All the questions running through your mind were irrelevant. Irrelevant because even if someone had asked for his assistance – you shot a glare to Solo who was still murmuring to his men, no one had informed you. And this was your expedition; you weren’t to be _handled_.

Anger overpowered the relief you’d felt moments ago, fairly easily. 

“General, did _I_ not instruct you to remain by my brother, The King’s, side?” The force in your voice surprised you. Poe jerked his head back, his smile faded. “Did I not?”

“Yes, highness, you did. But there is,-” 

“And was it not decided that _Captain Walkins_ and my own house guard would escort me to Ilum?” You heard your father’s voice bellowing from your lips, hoping it would be enough. Poe only nodded in response.

“But you felt it _more_ important to do… what exactly?” You forced your voice to remain strong and even, but you were unable to control the volume. As the wheels turned in your mind, you grew angrier and angrier. He was no better than Solo, who also ignored your orders. 

Yes, Poe didn’t mock you openly like Solo – but he had mocked your authority by ignoring your direct order. 

“My lady, with the king in danger,” he stuttered,” You... you’re next in line to the throne. _You_ should be my first priority.”

“Sir,” you stopped him, “I find your logic disquieting. _If_ I were your Queen and in danger, would you so quickly abandon me in favor of whomever was next in line? Heavens forbid!” It was as if the room held its breath. No movement, no sound, only the roar within your own ears as the pressure continued to build. “No, sir, your _inability_ to trust my judgment is quite problematic, indeed.” 

You realized your voice had taken a tone of sarcasm. Your father had always taught you that setting a sarcastic tone let those you spoke to that they had shaken you. 

You _were_ shaken. But how else were you to respond to this? Everything was off… _Everything_. All eyes were on you, now; your face turning red beneath the scrutiny of these men and the frustration that had been boiling since Solo pulled you from the horse manifested; angry tears filled your eyes. You reached into the deepest recesses of your mind to shove the tears back down. Your father’s voice filled your mind – “ _there is never room for tears, my heart.”_

_Was no one to understand you? To take you seriously?_

Poe’s lone eye darkened as he silently accepted your anger. Had the two of you been alone, he would have tried to push his argument further, calling you _poppet_ and so many sweet things to sway you.

You knew he was thinking the same when he glanced toward the men in the back of the room, then back to you – understanding he could not do so now. 

A creaking on the stairs pulled your attention and you noticed Reya and the man she referred to as Perrio standing there – watching you as well.

“Is **_no one_** with my brother?” Your voice filled the small room as you looked into every pair of eyes staring back. You began to shake – your hands clenching into fists so tightly that your nails broke the skin. 

“Highness,” Solo’s voice – even and strong pulled you from the panic beginning to settle in your chest. “Four of my men will be returning to D’Qar and are to remain with his majesty.” He walked toward you, his long legs eating up the short distance to you. He stood next to Poe – the difference in height somewhat comical.

“Also,” Poe spoke up, “I would remind your highness that Lady Organa has a very strong military presence in D’Qar and is very capable of maintaining his majesty’s safety.” It was not lost on you how Poe glared at Solo and how Solo’s eyes remained fixed on you. Your panic subsided but their words registered _no_ confidence. 

_Yes, everything was off…_

After allowing the knowledge to settle that John was ok, you glared at them both; not willing to dismiss the rest of their irksome behavior. Between the two of them, Solo had become a much greater problem in such a short amount of time. 

_ This was his fault.  _

His _ridiculous_ treatment of you; his disregarded, indifference and antagonization (which you _knew_ was intentional) and now he acted smooth and controlled – as if he hadn’t just assaulted you against a tree – mere hours ago.

From the moment you’d laid eyes on him – he’d been a problem. 

_One issue at a time –_ you took a deep, deep breath. 

“Captain Walkins, I was told you and a good portion of our company had turned back to Weston after an incursion, was this not true?” you spoke loudly – not pulling your gaze from Solo.

“Yes, highness – that is accurate. We did not, however, ride straight back to Weston.” She cleared her throat and stepped closer to you – between the two knights remaining impassive. “I felt there may be a chance the ambush was a coincidence and not a planned attack. Once you left the village, we resumed our journey that evening, planning to meet you here.”

“I see, and did General Dameron alert you to his intentions?” Her cheeks reddened a bit, but her resolved remained strong.

“No, highness.” She looked to Poe before casting her gaze down. “I wasn’t aware he was coming.”

“Alright,” you pressed your lips, “General,” you looked to Poe, “you will leave and go to D’Qar, _immediately_. Your king requires your service and unless _the regent_ has ordered you to remain here with me, you are to obey _my_ authority. Is that clear?”

Poe’s face remained expressionless, but you knew your words cut him. He responded in a very low, “yes, highness.” 

“Highness?” Reya stepped forward with a confused look on her face. 

“If my wishes are to be ignored and I’m to be treated like a child by men whose **only job** is to _listen_ and _obey_ me – **_their princess_** … If neither of them can respect my authority, then I have no use for them.” You looked up to Solo. “If I wanted someone _beneath_ my station to question me and dismiss me, I would have gone straight to Donia and discussed my plans with my Uncle to begin with. But I did not.” You straightened your shoulders while Solo did nothing to try and hide an amused smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

The tips of your fingers burned as you longed to slap the arrogance from his face. 

“And I expect _his_ immediate return to Weston,” you said to Reya while tilting your head toward Solo. She didn’t need a reason to follow orders, so you turned away without further explanation. “Sarah,” you said – pushing past the silent room of knights watching you, “I need to be ready to make for the palace by nightfall.” 

She dipped her head to her chest and responded quickly, “as you wish, highness.” 

You did not spare another look to either of the men but walked up the stairs with Sarah following closely behind. The fire liking up your skin felt good, the air filling your lung was fresh; you felt indestructible. You paused at the second step and turned back towards the knights, still standing in silence.

“Oh, and _creature_ ,” you let your voice slide over the syllables as you addressed Solo. He turned slowly – only lifting his eyes to acknowledge you. The clear rage on his face forced a well of excitement to burst within your veins, “do see to it that my things are delivered upstairs. _Promptly_.” You turned quickly around – hiding the enormous smile splitting your face. 

_Let’s see him punish me now,_ you proudly thought to yourself. 

___

Sarah was dressing you in a dark red evening gown. You ran your fingers over the obsidian jewels embedded in the fabric – hoping Armitage would appreciate you dressed in the colors of his crest. 

The sun was setting, and the dim light was fading. Sarah had finished with the last bow at the hem then shifted her attention to your hair – piling it high and messy to help the tiara look natural in front of your hair. You watched her twist curls around and pull some apart before pushing the small golden ring upon your head. The gold lines dripped in onyx gems jutted out like a dark sunrise. 

A quiet knock sounded at the door. Sarah paused and you nodded to her. She pulled open the door to reveal Captain Walkins dressed in a lesser version of Donia’s full coat of arms. Her hair was pulled back tightly and buried at the nape of her neck. 

“Highness, we are ready to depart upon your command.” She stood tall and you responded with your seal of approval and gratitude, expecting her to leave – but she remained. 

You turned to her and took in her face; her eyebrows were furrowed, and she cleared her throat.

“What is it, Captain?”

“Highness, I do apologize, but I could not send Commander Solo back to Weston as you had so commanded.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath – willing patience to descend upon you.

“Why ever not?” you snapped.

“I cannot,” her voice faltered, but she pressed,” I cannot protect you, as you should _be_ protected on my own.” Reya’s voice wavered again. She remained poised in front of you with her back straight and chin high. “I have never been to this region. My primary focus has been the border of Corellia and am unfamiliar with Ilum’s protocols and customs. While I appreciate your highness’s faith in me, I apologize to admit that it may have been misplaced.” She closed her eyes tightly. You weren’t sure, but it looked like she was trying to swallow down tears. 

You considered her. She was a woman, like you; working to make her place in this world, like you. Reya was clearly qualified (she wouldn’t be a Captain of the Deraan army if she weren’t). No, the circumstances surrounding this situation were beyond her control, and rather than deciding what was best for you _herself_ , she brought the problem to you and was allowing you to decide – like a true, loyal servant. You pushed aside the spike of anger rising within your heart that Solo had to remain, you refused to allow her to feel as if she’d failed.

“Captain,” you didn’t have to work to keep your voice soft – it came naturally. You stepped toward her and leaned down to grab one of her hands. Her fingers were small but _very_ rough; you smiled. “My faith has _not_ been misplaced. And you will remain here with me.” You beamed at her. The truth was you had an immense respect for her.

“Besides, there is no better way for you to familiarize yourself with their protocols, than by seeing them firsthand…” you whispered to her. She looked back up to you with gratitude in her eyes.

You recognized yourself in her; the same self-conscious fear affecting her was the very same emotion propelling you forward, even now. You wanted to know her better, like you knew Sarah and your other ladies. You wanted to know how she’d risen in her ranks and managed to become the first women (in your recollection) to become a Captain of the Guard. 

As you were about to express your thoughts on this friendship further, a large menacing shadow filled the doorway. Even before you looked, you knew who it was. Your anger instantly rekindled, and you dropped Reya’s hand gently before stepping back to allow Sarah to complete your hair. 

“Captain,” you channeled your father’s voice again, “inform _Commander Solo_ of our plans moving forward. I expect to be at the palace within the hour, to never have to return to this _horrid_ place again.” You didn’t spare him another glance although you hoped he’d understood the tone you’d used when calling him ‘ _Commander Solo’_ ; it sounded very similar to ‘ _creature’_.

You turned to the mirror and ran your hands over your waist, as Reya walked away. You titled your head to consider your hair, but your breath caught in your throat. Solo’s face appeared in the mirror, his head tilted slightly down and his eyes baring into yours. His eyebrow lifted in a way that sent shivers across your skin. 

Your throat burned, but before you could tell Sarah to close the door, he took a step back – into the dark corridor. The sound of his heavy boots indicating his departure. 

“Sarah,” your voice came out as a squeak. You cleared your throat, “would you mind bringing me the washcloth again?” She turned to the table pushed against the wall and lifted the kettle from the small fire beside it. After pouring the water and wringing out the cloth she brought it to you.

She watched, the same look of confusion on her face, as you began scrubbing your neck and chest again. You must have missed some areas earlier – while wiping the invisible layer of spit still clinging to your skin. 

Your mouth watered, but you ignored the faint taste of cool, worn leather.

\---

You stepped outside, welcoming the cold air on your exposed skin. 

A decadent carriage sat parked in front of the house with your trunks already loaded on top. 

Reya and three other men were on their horses waiting while Solo spoke someone in the carriage. The voice from the carriage stopped the moment he saw you and Solo stepped aside. 

The man that stepped from the carriage was quite possibly the most terrifying man you’d ever seen. He was a bit taller than Solo and looked to be thin and frail. His skin was weathered and pale in the light of the setting sun. His gold robes clung to his frame in a way that made him appear bigger than he was. There was no hair on his head, but rather an odd series of scars, with the most unsettling one slightly centered on his forehead. 

His piercing blue eyes sat sunken in his face with large dark circles surrounding them. It looked as if he’d never experienced a full night of rest. The bottom half of his face looked as if it had been pinched between two fingers and never went back to normal. 

He moved slowly towards you, which afforded you the time to make sure your face did not react to the unsettling quality of his. 

“ _Princess of Deraan_ ,” his voice bellowed in a smooth quality that reminded you of the men on your father’s war council. “On behalf of King Armitage, I welcome you to Ilum.” He bowed a few feet away from you, the golden mantle of triangles on his shoulders staying perfectly in place on his broad shoulders. 

“Thank you, my Lord,…” you paused.

“Snoke, highness. I am King Armitage’s emissary.” He stood and stepped closer to you. “I was sent to escort you to the palace.” He smiled as he stretched out his hand. 

You did not hesitate to take it, however there was no bone in your body that felt at ease doing so. You glanced toward Reya who sat on her horse a several feet away. 

Snoke led you to the carriage then slid in behind you. He motioned to the page then sat across from you with his back pressed against the wall of the elaborate carriage. The cushions were dark as night and smooth beneath your hand.

Somehow, the man sitting across from you appeared even more frightening surrounded by the inky black material. You smiled sweetly.

“I apologize, princess. We were not aware you were coming and were only just made aware of the trouble you endured on your journey.”

“Oh my lord, do not apologize,” you cleared your throat forcing your voice to remain friendly and light. “There have been some difficulties, yes, but nothing that could not be handled.” You paused as Snoke tilted his head and smiled darkly at you. “I am the one that must apologize. I’m sure my unexpected arrival has, no doubt, been a source of confusion for King Armitage. I do hope I have not inconvenienced him.” 

“Oh my lady,” his voice somehow dropped to a lower octave, reminiscent of a cat purring but more menacing, “your arrival, while unexpected, is _most_ welcome, indeed.” 

“Thank you, my lord.” you lowered your eyes to your hands – trying to hide your struggle to breathe. The way his eyes rolled over you and the jarring effect it had nauseated you. 

As the carriage continued and the evening light grew dimmer you felt a wash of panic grip your heart. Perhaps this wasn’t the best course of action… Perhaps it would have been better to stay in Weston. Colin’s words rang in the back of your mind as the carriage pulled closer to the castle. 

He hadn’t been speaking to you directly, but you’d heard him all the same _._

_“…to leave the stupid, little fool to reign? To decide the future of this country? I think not…”_

You swallowed down the bile fighting to rise in your throat. 

You had to fix this mess. There was no other option. 

For John, for your parents, for your people… for yourself. You glanced out the window as the carriage began to slow. 

You were right; you knew it in your heart, but even further than that - you knew it in your _bones_ , **_you_** were right. Snoke opened the carriage door then turned back to you, extending his papery thin hand. You took it with a delightful smile pasted to your face and stepped out.

As you looked up at the exquisite white stone castle, almost glowing in the night, you closed your eyes and imagined metal infusing with your bones. You exhaled and allowed Snoke to lead you on. 

**_I will fix this_** _,_ you thought. _That is my **only** option. _


End file.
